


The Flame That Burns The Candle

by ohmyflavors (hannibae)



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Barebacking, Body Swap, First Time, M/M, Polyamory, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibae/pseuds/ohmyflavors
Summary: “’Inside each of us is the truth, hidden beneath layers we leave untouched. Join as one to find your way back should you find yourself buried below yours.’”





	The Flame That Burns The Candle

**Author's Note:**

> this is for this week's tropetastic tuesday body swap theme!

The first thing he does when he realizes what’s happening is not the first thing he thought he’d do.

Not that he’s really put much thought into this happening, as impossible as it presented itself to be. But who hasn’t thought about it? And, really, in the context of it being _them_ , he feels like thinking about it happening is probably normal. Right?

Nothing really tastes any different. He still doesn’t like chai tea or fig preserves. Or the leftover fish they had in the fridge. Or green apples.

Putting the cup down and pulling a face as he quickly takes a sip of coffee instead, he grabs the phone sitting inconspicuously on the counter, both familiar and completely odd. There are more unread texts than he’s used to, an amalgamation of chaos that irritates him as he scrolls through to find what he’s looking for.

Hitting the call button is weird for several reasons, but he does so as he wanders through the house, listening to it ring an uncharacteristic amount of times.

He sounds breathless when he finally answers, and Link says, “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I didn’t! No, man, come on. I just left the phone in the kitchen.”

“Anyway, this is weird, right?” He doesn’t know how else to start this conversation. But he hears Rhett hum in agreement, hears a familiar voice in the background that makes him laugh a little bit.

Christy says, “Is that my husband? Let me talk to him.” There’s a clamor, Rhett barking out an indignant sound, and then Christy’s asking Link, “Did you tell Jessie this morning?”

“Well good morning, Mrs. Neal,” Link teases, laughing a bit exasperatedly.

“Look, I started my morning off by accidentally trying to sleep with your best friend, so maybe let’s skip the small talk,” she tells him. He can hear Rhett laughing in the background. It’s his own laugh, and it’s off-putting in the worst way. “I’m just checking to see if I should call _my_ best friend and apologize or not.”

“She knows,” Link says. “She knew before I did. Apparently _Rhett_ is the one who initiates things in the morning in their relationship.”

“He is,” Christy mutters. “I’m just glad this happened _after_ we talked about things.”

Link snorts indelicately, taking another sip of coffee, and then remembering he’s not supposed to be having dairy. “Yeah, nothing like swapping bodies after discussing opening up your marriage to your best friends.”

“Well, at least it’s less awkward than it could have been.” She’s got a point, but Link isn’t going to admit that right now.

Instead, he asks, “Did y’all…?”

“Charles Lincoln Neal, we all agreed we would talk before anything like that happened. Or did you check out of that part of the conversation last night?”

 Being married to her this long means he knows she’ll know he’s rolling his eyes in response. So instead of answering, he says, “Let me talk to Rhett real quick. Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Talk to your boyfriend,” she says. And then, a little softer, “Love you, too.”

Rhett, when he gets the phone from Christy, says, “Hey, we probably shouldn’t go into work today.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” He can’t imagine the conversation they’d have to have. Or, well. He can imagine it. He just doesn’t want to. And he doesn’t want to have the conversation, either.

The problem now is trying to find a way to switch back. They don’t have any experience in something like this. On top of that, this isn’t exactly the sort of thing that can just be brought up in conversation. Realistically, they should be freaking out. That should have been the first reaction any of them had to this happening.

Then again, after the night they’d had the night before, pretty much anything seems possible. At least for Link it does. Perhaps the rest of them are freaking out, but right now he’s just having an ‘of course this is happening’ moment. Honestly, he probably would have been more freaked out had he woken up to find _nothing_ had changed. He’s just glad it’s something like this and not something worse.

But, “How did this even happen?”

On the other end, Rhett makes a sound, low and contemplative. “No idea, brother.”

Then, it hits him. The whiskey. It was an old bottle, a gift from a friend, one that they’ve had for years. It wasn’t that they were waiting for the right moment to drink it, it was more that the bottle had gotten lost and then had just sort of shown up out of nowhere last night. It had a weird label that they hadn’t remembered it having before, but Rhett said they probably just forgot what it said after all this time. Link had been a little skeptical, but shrugged his shoulders and figured Rhett was right.

Apparently, he wasn’t.

“Oh man, we messed up,” Link laughs. Hearing it come out as Rhett’s deep, guffawing laughter just has him cracking up even more, and maybe he is freaking out after all. “Oh, gosh. Dude, we fucked up so bad!”

“The whiskey,” Rhett says, catching on. “Shit.”

He’s not laughing, and Link thinks maybe he should calm himself down, but he can’t make himself. Not for another couple of moments, not until Rhett is making an annoyed sound into the phone, until he hears him say something to Christy. There’s a laugh from Rhett, a sound from the background, and Rhett’s telling him, “Christy found the bottle. I’m coming over.”

The line ends there, and Link is left to stand in the middle of Rhett’s kitchen and wipe at the hysterical tears that have formed in the corners of his eyes. It feels weird being here without either Rhett or Jessie. There’s a nervous energy that makes him feel like he should find something to do with himself instead of standing around and waiting for Rhett to show up.

He needs a shower, but he feels a little weird about the idea of seeing Rhett’s body naked without his permission.

So he sends off a text, asks if it’s okay. What he gets in response is an answer of _please do_. The sigh of relief is a shock to himself, but he really does feel like he needs to be clean. He feels like maybe he’ll stop feeling so ill-fitting in this body if he showers.

Rhett and Jessie spent more money on their shower heads than Link did on Christy’s engagement ring, he thinks. There are two of them, matching ones that are on each side of the shower, and they’ve got an obscene number of settings. Link turns one on, strips down after taking a few breaths, and steps inside.

He’s seen Rhett naked before, in glimpses and glances over the years, but never even close to something like this. It’s not even like he’s _seeing_ Rhett naked.

It’s—

It’s hard to explain. Because the hand he’s looking at isn’t his own even though he’s the one moving it. When he brushes his palm over his chest, it looks like Rhett, but he’s the one feeling it. He’s still got his own brain, his own idiosyncrasies, but it’s Rhett’s body he’s watching perform all of them. His limbs are heavier, and he can definitely tell the height difference is there. It’s the strangest thing, feeling like you’re in the same body you’ve always been in only something is just a little off.

And so when he looks down to start scrubbing, he realizes exactly how awkward this whole thing really is.  This is definitely Rhett’s body. The hair all over him is lighter and thinner, his bellybutton is deeper, the soft parts of his abdomen a little softer. His legs are longer, although a tad skinnier. There are freckles dotted all over his skin that he can’t help but drag his fingertips over. Everything is different. There’s no mistaking this for what it really is anymore.

He chances a look at his penis. Because, like, why not? Rhett gave him permission, had to know this was going to happen. It’s just a penis.

Half-hard already.                                                                                                                                                                           

He’s not sure when that happened, or how, or from what. But he knows already that Rhett’s thicker than he is.

The thing is, in college they had this sorted out. Link’s dick is longer, Rhett’s is thicker, end of discussion.

What they hadn’t decided in college was that Rhett’s dick is _nice_. Thick and heavy. It’s nicer than Link’s, if you ask him.

He shakes his head, chuckling at himself. There’s a blush that he’s a little more embarrassed about, and then he’s startled out of everything when Rhett—or well, Link’s body, which is currently inhabited by Rhett—comes waltzing into the bathroom like he owns the place.

And. Well.

Nevertheless, it scares the crap out of him, and he’s rushing to cover himself without even thinking about it, hands flying everywhere while he stutters his way through an exclamation. Rhett starts laughing, loud and pleased with himself when he says, “It’s _my_ body! Why are _you_ embarrassed?”

“It’s the principle of the fact, man!”

“You’re telling me that you’d be uncomfortable with me being naked right now on principle?” Rhett asks. “Even though it’s your body you’d be seeing, because my brain is the one in the body, it would be ethically wrong?”

“I’m saying it would be morally wrong,” Link argues.

Rhett rolls his eyes.

Link cuts the shower short, still covering himself with a look of contempt, and opens the shower door to reach for the towel on the rack. As soon as he has it wrapped around himself, he turns to look at Rhett. He’s chosen jeans and a sweatshirt that Link hasn’t worn in a while, and he hasn’t done much to his hair. Altogether, he’s managed to make Link’s body look oddly like Rhett, and it’s settling weirdly in the pit of Link’s stomach.

“So, the label on the whiskey bottle is cryptic and weird.” Of course it is. That’s not exactly news to Link. It was cryptic and weird last night. He doesn’t say anything, just nods while he digs through drawers in search of clothes.

Rhett, sighing, opens one on the other side of the room, tosses a pair of boxers at Link. “Don’t dig through my wife’s drawers, man,” he says.

Turning his back in an attempt to keep the façade of modesty going, Link says, “Cryptic and weird—let’s stay on track here, Rhett.”

“Right. There’s like, a riddle or something on it.” Link turns to find him putting a shirt and a pair of pants on the bed. He meets Rhett’s eyes as he’s saying, “Something about ‘join as one to find your way back’.”

There’s a definite blush, high up on Rhett’s cheeks. Or, really, his cheeks, he supposes. Still, Rhett is blushing, obviously embarrassed, and Link feels himself blanch at what the riddle is obviously hinting at. “Join as one, huh?” Link teases. “Good thing you didn’t bone my wife this morning, or we’d be doubly screwed.”

“Literally,” Rhett jokes, shaking his head when he laughs.

It’s weird to watch his own body fiddle the way Rhett does. He watches his own hands skate through his hair, guiding up instead of across. Rhett picks at his nails, shifts from one foot to the other. Link can only imagine Rhett’s watching his own body the way Link is, taking in all the little things and noting how weird it is.

Which is why, when Rhett says, “Dang, I look good in that shirt,” Link’s first instinct is to grab a pillow of the bed and throw it at him as hard as he can.

\--

They spend three hours doing half-hearted research and coming up with absolutely nothing.

Googling the riddle brings up nothing, nor does the name on the bottle. They find themselves in a bit of a conundrum, having a vague idea what the riddle is suggesting they do, but not being terribly sure if it’s really what it’s suggesting they do.

“That last bit is what’s throwing me off.” Rhett’s been reading it over and over so many times Link thinks he can recite it by memory at this point.

He says, “That ‘buried below yours’ part?”

Rhett nods his head, hums in affirmation. He’s distracted, scrolling through his phone before putting it down on the counter and rubbing the heels of his palms over his eyes. “Gosh, I don’t know.”

“You think we should just,” and he lets the room fall silent in lieu of actually finishing his thought.

With a sigh, Rhett says, “I don’t want to do that and then it not be what we have to do to switch back.”

 “Read it to me one more time.”

He’s annoyed, Link can tell. Even so, he takes a breath and grabs the bottle off the counter. “’Inside each of us is the truth, hidden beneath layers we leave untouched. Join as one to find your way back should you find yourself buried below yours.’”

 “Maybe,” Link starts, brow furrowed while he runs the tip of a finger over his top lip. “Maybe we should think about this in the context of our conversation last night.”

“Our layers left untouched were each other?” It makes sense, if Link thinks about it and squints. “So now that we’ve talked about what we’ve talked about, we’re ‘buried below’ our ‘layers left untouched’.”

“And we gotta,” he tries, pausing to do a crude hand gesture instead, “to go back to our own bodies?”

“For one thing, if you ever do that with my hands again, I’m going to beat the crap out of you,” Rhett says, giving him a serious look. “And for another thing, have a little respect, man. If that’s how you’re gonna treat it, then we can stay like this.”

“Fine then, we gotta _fuck_ to get back to our original selves. Is that better?” Link tells him, exasperated and already exhausted.

Rhett wipes a hand over his face, grabbing at his phone again. He says, “Yeah, I guess we do.” He won’t make eye contact with Link, choosing instead to stare at his phone as he scrolls through an apparently long list. But then he looks up, gives Link a pointed look and says, “You better call Christy.”

\--

“I’m having trouble believing that they’re okay with this,” Link admits, even as he’s pulling his shirt over his head. He looks over at his own body doing the same thing, uncharacteristically steady hands working at the button on his jeans already.

Rhett just shrugs. “Why wouldn’t they be? This is sort of what we were talking about last night, brother.”

Link shakes his head, breathing out a laugh. “You’re not weirded out by this?” He watches Rhett push his jeans down.

“By this in particular, yes. I’m sort of watching myself in a way I never really wanted to,” Rhett says, eyeing Link carefully.

Under his breath, Link teases, “Says the man who had full-length mirrors in his bedroom.”

There’s an eye-roll and Rhett continues, “Sleeping with you doesn’t weird me out.”

“No? What if I’ve got a foot thing?” Link teases, bringing his leg up and wiggling his toes for good measure. When something pulls, he makes a face and drops it back down. “Dang, man. Your back sucks.”

“You didn’t do my stretches this morning, did you?” Rhett accuses, pointing a finger at Link.

 “I think there’s about to be enough stretching going on, thank you.”

This whole thing is weird. He watches his own hands pull his boxers down, hears his own voice ask, “Since we’re in each other’s bodies, do we get to decide for ourselves who’s—you know.”

Link shrugs. He doesn’t know the etiquette involved in being trapped inside someone else’s body, but he guesses it makes sense that Rhett should be able to decide what’s done to his body and vice versa. Then again, Link is the one who’s going to have to experience whatever it is that’s going on to this body, so really, shouldn’t he have _some_ say? 

Before he has a chance to voice that, Rhett says, “I kinda want to be on bottom. You alright with that?”

Scientifically, it’s not like his body is going to permanently be changed if this happens. He knows that. Still, he can’t help but be a little hesitant when he says, “Yeah, let’s do it.”

“You’re sure?” Rhett asks, despite Link watching him rub nervous palms over his hips.

Instead of answering him, Link decides to close the distance between the two of them. The first press of their mouths is sort of a shock through him, new and strange and exciting. He can’t help the way he hums into it, presses against Rhett just a bit harder. It’s even more of a shock, even more of a direct live wire to his cock when Rhett licks across the seam of his lips.

He pulls back, sucks in a breath. “I’m sure,” he says. His answer is delayed and a little more breathless than he’d like, but the response it pulls from Rhett is a throaty sound and a hand in his hair.

Leaning down to kiss someone is strange, and so is the contrast of full-grown beard against two days worth of stubble. But the strangest part of everything is when Rhett pulls him closer and Link can feel the hard press of his own dick against the body he currently inhabits.

Rhett pulls away, laughs a little, and says, “This is freaking weird.”

“ _Now_ it’s weird,” Link laughs. “Now that you’re pressing my dick into your own thigh.”

“Yeah,” Rhett agrees. “Yeah, now it’s weird.”

Link tries to fight off rolling his eyes, but ultimately fails. It earns him Rhett pulling away entirely, choosing instead to crawl onto the bed. He’s completely naked, and Link hesitates for just a second before he pulls at the rest of his clothes. He watches Rhett stretch out, seeing the way his own hips wiggle, his cock hard enough to be curved up towards his belly.

“You know,” Rhett says, and he’s reclined back on the bed, arms behind his head, waiting for Link to do something. “This isn’t quite how I imagined this happening between the two of us.”

“No?” Link asks, teasing. “This is exactly how I thought it would happen.

Rhett snorts, reaches up to pull Link’s glasses off his face before frowning and sliding them back on.

Swallowing a bit heavily, Link asks, “How’d you think it would go?”

There’s a hum, an exhale that’s louder and longer than necessary before Rhett is shrugging his shoulders and wiggling a little bit more. “It’s not important,” he says. “Let’s just make this count, okay?”

“What if this doesn’t work?”

“It will.”

But it could not work, is the thing. The possibility is eating away at him, making his nerves that much worse. He didn’t need to be more nervous, really. He’s never seen Rhett’s hands shake the way they’re shaking because of him right now, as he stares at his own body, completely relaxed, laze against the bed.

This isn’t going to work very well if he just stares at himself, so he steels himself and starts crawling up the expanse of the California king. There’s something unsettling about straddling his own hips, putting all of his weight down once he’s there. If he can get over the hurdle that he’s about to fuck his own body with Rhett’s cock, he’ll be okay.

If he thinks about this being Rhett instead of himself, he’ll be okay.

But, really, that’s scary, too.

Maybe they should have thought this through, have Rhett be the one on top after all.

He reaches out, grabs for Rhett, and pulls him close again. Before he presses their mouths together, he gets it out of his system, says, “This is really weird.”

Rhett’s laughing when Link kisses him—he can feel his smile pressed against his own, and then he feels slim fingers card through his hair, pulling him in closer. This kiss is different, deeper and wetter and harder. It leaves him feeling like all the air has been punched out of him, like he’s going to float away unless Rhett is touching him, holding him down.

It’s easy now to trail his fingers over the expanse of the body below him, starting at his belly, the tips of his fingers working down until they get to his hips. Rhett doesn’t react like he thought he would, and after a second of being disappointed, he remembers that it’s because he isn’t touching Rhett’s body.

He’s touching his own body.

So instead, he breaks their kiss to press his mouth to the curve of his neck, feeling a wave of cockiness when Rhett instantly garbles out a thick sound and a gasp. When he sucks a mark into the spot, Rhett curses loudly, his hands coming to rest on Link’s back, nails digging in after just a second.

Link moves his hands from his hips to his sides, thumbs rubbing circles into the sensitive skin there while he works his teeth over Rhett’s neck. There’s a part of him, a weird circuit firing in his brain that’s saying he wishes they had mirrors at their disposal, so he could watch Rhett’s mouth working a hot line down his body.

By the time he’s gently scraping his teeth over Rhett’s nipple, tongue laving hot and wet over any inch of skin it can, Rhett is wriggling around, making high-pitched, breathy sounds that Link would find hotter if they didn’t sound exactly like his own voice. Does it make him a narcissist if he’s hard from touching his own body, from hearing his own sounds?

“Gosh, Link,” Rhett’s breathing out, fingers digging into Link’s back a bit painfully.

Working his mouth down Rhett’s body in a line of too-wet kisses, he says, “We’ve got lube, right?”

It’s funnier than it should be to watch Rhett scramble for the drawer on his bedside table, sitting up just enough to put Link that much closer to his dick. Once he’s tossed the bottle on the bed, dropped back down onto his back with a pant, Link pats him on the thigh a few times, holding back his laughter.

“Someone’s eager,” Link teases, dragging his teeth over his hip playfully.

Rhett just hums, and when Link looks at him, he says, “Been waiting a long time for this.”

Link can’t help but give him a soft look, but punctuate it with a sharp bite, right in the curve of his groin. When Rhett bucks up, shouts loudly and smacks at Link’s head, he can’t help but laugh. To soothe it, he drags the softer parts of the beard Rhett loves so much across his skin, taking in the way he breaks out in goosebumps at the feeling. Rhett shivers, hums, and relaxes into the mattress again. Link waggles his tongue over the mark, worming his way closer to his cock.

A hand finds its way to Link’s hair, fingers carding through it a couple of times before cradling the back of his head in silent encouragement. “My mouth’s pretty small, man,” Rhett says, voice sounding low and thick. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Will you get on your knees for me?”

The question sort of rings out between the two of them, weighty and loud in the quiet of the room. After a second, Rhett hums in affirmation, twists so that he can turn over onto his stomach. And really, this angle isn’t exactly less intimidating or more flattering. Rhett sort of grunts when he gets comfortable, leaning forward on his elbows, the pillow stuffed under his chest for extra support.

Link waits a beat, licks his lips, and leans forward. The first pass of his tongue over Rhett earns him a loud sound and Rhett bucking his hips forward so hard he almost loses his balance. Link has to put his hands on Rhett’s hips to hold him in place. He builds up saliva on his tongue, licks over his hole again, and hums at the strangled sound Rhett lets out.

This is impromptu, not exactly what he wanted to do, but the slickness there makes it easy now to press the pad of his index finger to his hole, rub over it in small circles. Rhett pushes back against him, keeps making those little noises in the back of his throat.

He slips inside, just a little, listening to the catching in Rhett’s breath. Lube makes it better, makes it slicker, makes Rhett curse and press against him as he presses inside. And it’s his body he’s watching open up around his finger, his ass he sees jiggle when Rhett starts to tremble, but it’s Rhett that he watches fall apart just from this.

And when he hears, “Fuck, Link,” it’s unmistakably Rhett. Even though it’s his own voice he hears, his own pants and grunts and moans—it’s Rhett. Soft whimpers fill the room as he slips in with a second finger, slick and wet as the first, watching the way Rhett tenses up his shoulders before exhaling shakily. It’s Rhett’s blunt, thick fingers he’s pressing inside of him, but Link curls them up and presses in, listening carefully to the way it makes him cry out, hips jerking forward.

Teasing, he asks, “How’s it feel?”

“’S good, bo,” Rhett slurs, pressing back against Link.

Just for the fun of it, just to see it happen, Link presses in with a third finger, slow and easy and watching Rhett relax around the width of his fingers. It’s harder with three, but Rhett does a good job with it, takes deep breaths and circles his hips while Link sinks them in slowly.

He leans down, presses a kiss to the small of Rhett’s back. “That’s good, baby.”

“Alright, come on,” Rhett urges, sounding impatient. “I’m ready.”

“Ask nicely.”

He means it as a joke, but then Rhett’s saying, “Please, Link. Put—Want you inside me, now.”

And that’s too much, the dam breaking loose as he pulls out, reaches down with his slick hand to jerk himself a couple of times. He hadn’t realized exactly how hard he was, how worked up this had him until he had his fist around his cock. The first touch has him moaning, shifting forward to line himself up and press the blunt head to his hole.

All of this is jumbled in his head, confused and chaotic as he watches Rhett’s cock sink inside of his own ass. But he’s the one who feels it, feels how tight and slick everything is. And Rhett’s the one who arches into the feeling, who works Link’s mouth around the words, “Gosh, I feel so fucking full.”

There’s a tense moment where Link’s eyes fall shut and he’s trying to catch his breath, keep his hips still so he doesn’t fuck up into Rhett before he’s ready.

He hears Rhett grunt, feels tingles starting in the base of his spine, running across his scalp, buzzing in his fingertips. It settles, and before he can really even tell what’s happened, he’s opening his eyes, clenching down around a foreign feeling, and looking down at the mattress.

“Oh,” Rhett groans, and Link presses back in experiment, pulling a face at how it feels.

His cock is still hard, his ass is full, and there’s lube sliding down his inner thigh. And still, all he can think to say is, “Am I me again?”

“Yeah,” Rhett says. He hums, and Link feels the brush of his beard against his back, feels his lips trailing along his spine. “Can I fuck you? Or do you wanna switch again?”

Link can’t help the way those words coming from Rhett, hearing them in Rhett’s voice, how they settle in his stomach and make his cock twitch. He groans, buries his face in the crook of his elbow and mumbles, “Yeah, fuck me, Rhett. Come on.”

And gosh, Rhett was right. He feels full, feels stretched and slick and so fucking _full_. Rhett’s dick might be shorter than his own, but it’s still big, thick and perfect. Link could do this forever, he thinks. He likes the bite of it, the way everything feels like so much, like if he shifts or breathes too deeply, he’ll be even fuller. And the ache is there, the stretch of his muscles making him feel fuzzy and alive.

Rhett’s hands feel huge on him when they come to rest on his hips, support while he slides out slowly, letting Link feel everything. His rhythm, when it starts, is choppy and slow, but after a second and some breathing, it works. His hips find Link’s every time, flush and grinding just a little bit. Link still rocks back against him, feeling like he should do something other than murmur through half-words.

“Fuck, Rhett,” he groans, unable to hold it in. “Gosh, it’s so good.”

Rhett tells him, “You feel so perfect around my cock, baby.”

It’s an embarrassingly short moment, a breath, a second, a beat, and Link’s coming. Just like that, untouched, with Rhett’s voice ringing through his head and his cock pounding into him. It feels good to be back in his body, the familiar warmth in his gut and tingling in his fingertips guiding him through the aftershocks. He hears himself, the groans he lets out as Rhett fucks him through it, and his face heats up.

Rhett’s hands, big and warm, run up his back, pressing firmly against him as he rocks into Link from behind. It’s almost too much, right on the edge, and Link squeezes down around him just to hear the way he gasps, feel the stutter in his rhythm. Those hands find their way back to Link’s hips, pull him in close while Rhett bends to press his face in between Link’s shoulder blades.

There’s a barely-there sob of, “Gosh, Link,” before he’s winding an arm around Link’s waist, squeezing tightly as he comes, too.

This part of it, feeling Rhett come inside him, is not what he expected. And, if he’s honest with himself, the thought of it makes something inside him twist with a pleasant warmth. He feels Rhett relax around him, his arm falling as he presses more soft kisses to Link’s spine.

Rhett puts a hand on the small of Link’s back as he pulls out gently, and Link all but collapses onto the bed below him. Without warning, Rhett does much the same, knocking the wind out of Link in the process.

“Really, man?” Link laughs, the stirrings of annoyance building as he wriggles and can’t get Rhett to budge. “Don’t ruin the moment like this.”

With a sigh and an indignant, “Fine,” Rhett rolls off of him, landing next to him on the bed.

Link feels sticky. He feels sticky and slick in the weirdest places, and when Rhett reaches out to grab for him, pull him closer, he feels butterflies in his stomach at the realization of what exactly happened today.

“We should call our wives. Tell them we’re back to normal,” Rhett says.

“I think ‘normal’ is pushing it.” Even so, he doesn’t feel like moving. He needs a nap and a shower before they do anything else.

There’s a soft press of lips to the back of his neck, and Link reaches back, pats Rhett on the ass a few times.

He hears Rhett talking to him, but he’s almost asleep anyway. He’ll ask him what he was saying later, after a nice seventeen hour nap.


End file.
